John Buys Some Jam
by TwilaBast
Summary: John goes out to buy some Jam. He and Sherlock share a tender moment.


Chapter Two

* * *

John Drops Some Jam

Upon finishing the jam, Sherlock grew tired. In vain he fought slumber because there was so much to tell John, many questions to ask and much catching up to do. Once he fell asleep and his tiny wings beating indolently, fearing his own hands would crush the bee-man, John fetched a piece of printer paper to pick him up. Silently yet quickly like kudzu, he carried the fairy to his room. His minuscule chest rose and fell. It reminded John of when he dared to creep into Sherlock's room, when he was human; before the fall. Even then his thin milky chest was just as delicate as it was now. Gingerly he placed fairy on the fluffiest pillow.

John ran fingers through his fringe. _Better get more jam. _

And so he left a note for Sherlock and left.

Sherlock woke to the smells of John encompassing him. It was the thing he remembered first in his new bee life. For a while, encased in his honeycomb cell, it was all he remembered. Once he chewed his way out, his mind was an avalanche of memories; jam, jumpers, tea, honey colored hair, eyes with candy wrapper wrinkles, and obscure images like that.

"Jooooooooooooonnnhhgg," Sherlock moaned into the pillow. His proboscis growing stiff as if he has landed on the sweetest flower.

John fumbled with the paper bags full of jam and milk in his arms while he tried to unlock the front door. A raspberry jam jar fell onto the porch and splattered everywhere.

"Shit," John said, but got a quiet joy as the red markings reminded him of the crimes he helped solve.

Once inside, John set down the bags. He heard a faint noise. It sounded like his name. He walked to the bottom of the stairs and there it became clear.

"Jooooooooooooonnnhhgg," he heard. His eyes widened in fear.

"I'm coming!" The blond man called. "I'll be there soon! Hold on just a tick!"

He rushed up the stairs, not pausing to think as he slammed the door open.

Sherlock's form writhed on the bed. John's eyes were drawn to the pink button-like nipples on his chest. _Wait, _he thought. Something is different, very different. Sherlock's body now measured roughly the length of John's palm. Just last night, Sherlock had only been about the size of a particularly large bee!

"Sherlock! Are you—?"

"John!" Sherlock shouted. "Your pillow is amazing! How did you make it smell like this?" He rubbed his tiny body on said pillow as he spoke.

John scooped Sherlock up in his hands, minding his fragile wings. "You're bigger than you were last night."

"Hm." Sherlock stood up in John's hand and measured himself against his index finger. "So I have. Interesting…"

"Perhaps this has to do with that jam…" Sherlock said as he paced back and forth.

John fought back a giggle as Sherlock's feet tickled his palm. "Hold still." He said softly.

John rubbed his fingers up and down Sherlock's perky flank to calm him. Sherlock froze and locked eyes with John.

He extended his proboscis and licked at John's finger. John's whole body mumbled with a deep groan. His touches became bolder, caressing Sherlock's chest.

Figuring _in for a penny, in for a pound,_ John plopped down on the bed and continued to fondle his small friend. Being, of course, very careful about his stinger.

"Oh, John!" Sherlock gasped and arched his back hungrily. "Pollinate me!"

John moaned. He felt as if he were in a dream. He felt it; he believed it because this could not be real. This was his Sherlock, but how had this happened, how had he become this- this- fairy?

Sherlock's proboscis licked at his finger once more. A fire roared to life inside of him. He felt the desires, once obstructed, break their damn, rush and course through him like an eruption of molten stone, rock and metal.

"Sherlock, I want to, I want you!" He wanted to give pleasure and to take it but Sherlock, once tall, once beautiful, once alive, had become this tiny bee. This…Zombee…. He bent his face down to him, his breath short and sharp. Sherlock screamed in ecstasy and offered him his perfectly imperfect ass. John snatched a Q-tip from his bed side table and ran it between his buttocks, just beneath his stinger. Sherlock went limp.

John bent down, carefully puckered his lips and kissed Sherlock's ass. He jumped back in shock as Sherlock, still in the throes of passion began to grow. His legs stretched first, then his arms, then the rest of him rapidly followed. Each piece of him grew sensuously, slowly. He was still face down, his ass in the air a hand between his legs, fingers running the length of his bee-nis.

"john, oh john, pollinate me! Oooooo" his massive wings vibrated.

"Wait," huffed John his irresistible oaky voice which drizzled on the other man's ear/antennae like caramel. "Are you sure that we should do this? For the sake the Queen, I was going to shag you with a Q-tip." He gestured to the Q-tip in question. Yet, he couldn't help but stare at the scrumptious bee-hind.

"Pollinate me!" The imp said impatiently.

"Sherlock, no I mean what if I crush you! You know I want this. That I want you. I just-" The bigger man waved his hands about, Q-tip in hand.

Sherlock lazily turned to his side. "John, I didn't know how to tell you—"

"Yes, yes, I know. When you were human, back when you were alive-I didn't know how to tell you either. Sherlock, I've waited so long to tell you how I feel and now it's just so great to see you." Tears formed in John's eyes and Sherlock longed to reach out and drink them, but the tears never fell.

"Though you are not quite the detective I am John, you are one in your own right. We do not need these words. We both can deduce each other's needs at this point." The bee man looked seductively through his long black and yellow lashes. "Unless you want to…talk."

John opened his mouth but spoke nothing.

"And in this new body, John," The way Sherlock said his name sent chills up his spine, "I have new biological needs, needs far greater than those in my previous human body. You see, I'm the virgin queen."

John fell back on his ass in a fit of laughter. The Q-tip lost under the bed.

Sherlock buzzed in frustration. "Pollinate me John."

Tears did fall from John's face in laughter rather than regret.

"I'm the virgin queen and I need to have larvae John." Sherlock pouted. "I'm glad my predicament amuses you."

John worked his way to his feet, his knees clicking and still chuckling.

John's giggles subsided slowly. Sherlock glared.

"I don't appreciate being laughed at, John" he said.

"If you had ever gotten around to checking your beehives today, even you would have noticed that they are all missing their queens. I am not joking."

Sherlock, now grown to his human height, sat up angrily.

"Pollinate me." he demanded.

* * *

To Be Continued...


End file.
